


Of Alliances and Arm's Length

by NebulousMistress



Series: The Red Book [4]
Category: Stargate Atlantis, TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms
Genre: Episode: s03e07 Common Ground, Gen, Past Child Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-23
Updated: 2017-05-02
Packaged: 2018-10-23 01:26:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10709244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NebulousMistress/pseuds/NebulousMistress
Summary: Colonel Sheppard was lost and found. The Genii are relieved their alliance with Atlantis isn't dead yet. But it might not be as easy as that.





	1. Of the Negotiator's Fury

“We have him, he's all right.”

Elizabeth Weir sagged at the news. She didn't care that she was in the gateroom surrounded by watchful eyes. She didn't even care that Ladon Radim stood beside her with his empty promises of justice and action.

The crisis was over. That was all that mattered. Kolya had escaped, Sheppard had struck a deal with the very Wraith who fed upon him in front of all their horrified eyes, the vaunted Genii spy network was proven flawed after all, but it was over. Sheppard was alive and well and would be coming home.

“This is a victory for both our peoples,” Ladon said. “It should be celebrated properly. We must hold a ball. You and your command staff are invited, of course.”

“Of course,” Weir said, voice low and soft. Her eyes narrowed as she heard the man beside her prattle on and on about this 'glorious victory' as though he'd done anything at all to rescue Sheppard. “A word, Ladon,” she said, cutting him off. “In my office.” She left him without seeing if he would follow, her steps slow and deliberate. She moved like something dangerous, sinuous, a frightening grace meant to unnerve.

It unnerved more than a little. Ladon followed her, several steps behind. He waited for her to take her desk before entering the office and tried not to wince as the doors slid closed.

All sound was left outside.

“Kolya escaped,” Elizabeth said, voice low and even.

“And he will be found,” Ladon said. “He will be made an example of. My detractors will know that they cannot treat our allies with such disdain. He will--”

She cut him off. “You hope you will find him,” she said. “For if my people find him first there will not be enough of him left for you to 'make an example of'.”

“Dr. Weir--”

“You had your chance to capture him alive,” she said. “You failed. Now a rogue faction of your government is on the loose. This is a man who has led an invasion of this city and has now stooped to kidnapping, blackmail, and torture of my people. You had your chance to clean up this mess without interference. I'm not asking you to find him for us, I'm telling you if we find him first there won't be enough left for your trial. There won't be an example to make. If you're lucky and if I'm feeling merciful we might tell you where you'll find his body or what remains of it. Understood?”

Ladon was taken aback. This was not the delicate Dr. Weir he'd negotiated with before. This wasn't even the calm, steady, hateful Dr. Weir he'd held back while Kolya tortured McKay in front of her. This was something different, something dangerous. But he was Genii and he couldn't stand before danger without some sort of defense, even in private. He was no coward. “And so Colonel Sheppard escapes by allying himself with a Wraith and I'm supposed to accept that? Any alliance with those creatures is dangerous. Kolya proved that today.”

Elizabeth smiled, all teeth and feral threat. “My dear Ladon, before I came to Atlantis I negotiated treaties between genocidal madmen who make the Wraith look civilized. Allying with a monster is what John had to do to survive. It's something we've all had to do at one point or another.”

A sudden realization awash with fear crashed through him. She'd negotiated with worse? What was she admitting to? Right in front of him?

“When you have been forced to argue the necessity of a tyrant responsible for the deaths of millions you will understand,” she said. She sighed and slumped back in her desk chair visibly exhausted. She gestured toward the chair in front of her desk as though her office didn't stink of fear. “You mentioned a celebration,” she said. “This is an occasion. Another coup has been thwarted, Colonel Sheppard is safe. Soon Kolya will no longer be a problem, however that may occur.”

“Perhaps we should discuss this at another time,” Ladon said, not sitting down. “When your Colonel Sheppard is present and accounted for, for instance.”

“Of course,” Elizabeth said, that feral smile returning. “Oh, one more thing. A trifle, really, but since I have you here...”

“Yes?”

“You sent an envoy to observe the storytelling with the Scriniarii,” she said.

“It promised to be most interesting,” Ladon said. “The Lanteans are an unknown in this galaxy. We had no idea you even had stories of importance. We--”

She cut him off, a hand raised for his silence. “I know why you sent them.”

Ladon's prepared explanation fell away. He swallowed nervously. “You do?”

“I do. That was not the first of our stories you've heard.”

Ladon stared resolutely at a carving on her desk. “The theft of a book of such importance is an act of war,” he admitted. “We didn't know what it was until we began translating it.”

“Let's not be hasty,” she said. “There's no reason to jump to war so quickly. After all, we worked so well together today, recovering Colonel Sheppard, ending Kolya's coup...” She stopped short of mentioning his capture, knowing Ladon would understand her point. The Genii had shown themselves incompetent today and she would use that weakness to her advantage. “Which book was it?”

“The Red Book.”

“There are many red books,” Elizabeth said. “Many volumes containing many stories. Which one was it?”

Ladon Radim took a deep breath and prepared to lose the government he'd just barely held onto today. “ _The Silmarillion_.”

“I see,” Elizabeth said. She had never read that one. She'd have to find a copy. “We'll ask among our expedition, find the owner of that book. You'll negotiate with them.”

Ladon was confused. She must be lulling him into another false sense of security. That was the only reason she wasn't declaring war right then.

“In the meantime we should return to the gateroom floor,” she said. She stood from her desk chair. “I'm sure the rescue team will return soon and you'll want to thank them personally for saving your government.”

“Of course,” he said, dull and even. He followed her back onto the gateroom floor where he ignored the curious eyes that stared and wondered.

The Lanteans knew about the theft of the Red Book. He could only hope they'd be merciful. Given the threat promised against Kolya, mercy was not something Ladon Radim could count on anymore.


	2. Of Realizations Made

Elizabeth put the down book and drained her coffee mug.

She was only a dozen or so pages in and already she saw the problem.

To be fair, she saw several problems. First, this was not a book she was going to flip through with only a few cups of coffee over a single afternoon. This thing read like a textbook with all the density and imperiousness of a religious studies text. This was going to be a problem for her since she didn't have the extra time she'd need to fully parse and comprehend this book.

The second problem had less to do with her and more to do with the rest of the galaxy. _The Silmarillion_ started with a creation myth. It began with an internally consistent creation myth that built upon itself without falling over its own fiction. It was detailed, it was cruel, it was beautiful in its own way, and it must have been utterly alien to anyone here in Pegasus.

The legends of the Ancestors here were varied, yes, but also ubiquitous. Everyone had certain stories: the Ancestors dropped us off here, showed us how to use the gate, then left and we prospered and all was good until the Wraith came. From there some cultures blamed themselves for failing the Ancestors, others blamed the Ancestors for failing them, still others believed the Wraith destroyed the Ancestors and were therefore the rightful heirs to the galaxy. But they were all the same in that they all accepted the Ancestors as having existed. Their worlds were found or made or whatever but those worlds were **there** when the Ancestors dropped them off.

This... This book detailed the creation of a world meant for life. That life would grow, evolve, happen. But there were no Ancestors to fly in and seed that world. Life was a part of that world's creation, and not even a part of the original plan. Sentient life, men and elves, were the Third Chord of Ilúvatar sung solely to combat the Dissonant Chord of Melkor. Life wasn't planned, it simply happened. Life was a last-minute creation, a tool meant to hold back the discord of the universe.

Even the foreword didn't detract from the creation myth. Taken out of context it almost sounded as though Tolkien had in fact translated certain stories early and kept them in notebooks for decades, refining some translations as he went. Elizabeth knew the story, that Tolkien had conceived of his works to be a fictional alternate-history of Europe and in his appendices he'd mention the Red Book from which everything was translated.

And all this from just the first chapter Ainulindalë, The Music of the Ainur.

This was going to be a long, long book.

But first she needed more coffee.

*****

Ladon Radim stood in the Archives, an open glass case before him. He ran his hands over the treasure within, a single book bound in red pseudo-leather. A trophy of battle looted from the heart of the enemy's stronghold. A rare collection of stories from a culture that until recently was thought not to keep stories. A mostly-translated history of creation and destruction, of evil's rise and of love's power to withstand, of the fall of men to darkness and the ascension of elves to Valinor.

Even after a year he could barely read the words on the cover, the title, the name that invoked all of those stories.

'The Silmarillion.'

“Chief Radim, I did not see you there.”

Ladon turned empty eyes to Archivist Rainar.

“Are you well?” Rainar asked.

Ladon closed the glass case. He gripped the edges, fingerprints smudging the clear finish. “They know,” he whispered.

Archivist Rainar stepped closer. “Sir?”

“The Lanteans... know... we have the Red Book,” Ladon said, forcing the words out past gritted teeth. His entire body was tensed like a bowstring, pulled taut and awaiting the marksman's shot. He hadn't slept since his return from Atlantis, couldn't even take comfort in the consorts his sister offered him for his health. He was a scientist, a man of knowledge, and he knew now that the Lanteans were capable of atrocities that would turn the stomach of even the most feral Bola Kai.

There was a soft thud behind him. Archivist Linas Rainar had felt his legs give way and without a chair beneath him he'd sank to the floor. “Oh...” was all he could say.

“Open warfare has not broken out yet,” Ladon said. He took a deep breath. “At least we have that.”

“We would prevail,” Rainar said. “Wouldn't we?”

Ladon shook his head. “No. We would not.”

“We have the greater numbers...”

“I watched their military commander ally himself with a Wraith and Dr. Weir defended his actions as 'necessary',” Ladon said. “There is no mercy in them and because of that we will never see Acastus Kolya alive again. They will hunt him down to the ends of this galaxy to make him pay for his actions and I have no doubt his death will be one of great suffering.” Ladon gazed at the Archivist with sad, lifeless eyes. “The Lanteans were crossed. This... is just one more trespass.”

Rainar bowed his head.

“The most I can say is that we are not yet at war,” Ladon allowed. “I do not wish to fight an enemy who discards honor like a spent pistol. Dr. Weir said we would negotiate with the original owner of the Red Book, not with her. That is something.”

“If she tells the truth,” Rainar said.

“I fear she does,” Ladon said. “I truly fear she does.”

*****

“It's good to hear from you, Atlantis,” General Landry said.

The alarm whined in the background as the gateroom warbled with the ever-undulating glow of the wormhole. The iris closed access from the front, keeping the wormhole sealed against matter flow but energy transferred freely. The radio chatter betrayed just how freely as General Landry spoke to Dr. Weir in the SGC ops center.

There was a pause, a twenty second time lag and then “It's good to be heard,” Elizabeth said over the crackling connection. “Is Dr. Jackson available? We were hoping for a consult.”

“No, SG-1 is out on a mission at the moment,” Landry said. “I don't expect their next check-in for another two hours.”

Another time lag. The wormhole only seemed instantaneous to those who stepped through. In the Milky Way the light lag was negligible but now, here, trying to hold a conversation with someone three million light years distant, Landry could imagine the frustration the Apollo astronauts must have felt when the limits of light speed made themselves known.

It meant waiting for every reply, an extra eight to thirteen light seconds each way depending on the wormhole's path through subspace.

“Unfortunate,” Elizabeth said. “We have a minor situation here that he might enjoy. Nothing dangerous, I assure you, but...”

Landry waited but the pause stretched beyond mere light lag. “What is it?” he asked.

“I... have no idea how to say this.” Landry heard the faint laughter in the background.

“Just spit it out.”

“Well...”

Elizabeth's voice was cut off by one the SGC found infinitely more annoying. “Oh give me that,” McKay said. “The Genii believe they've determined our planetary religion and they've spent the past year telling everybody else all about it. Unfortunately, nothing we've done in that time has disavowed them of that idea. Instead we've just verified everything and now we're stuck with an entire galaxy thinking we're all Tolkienites.”

From his post at the dialing computer Walter Harriman looked up in shock then grinned.

“What's a Tolkienite?” Landry asked.

“Someone who takes _The Lord of the Rings_  seriously,” Harriman said before McKay could respond with essentially the same description.

“We found the report in our system,” Dr. Weir said. “Dr. Debra Johnson reported her copy of _The Silmarillion_ missing after the Genii attempted to seize control of the city. We didn't follow up on it because she was dead a week later and we had more pressing matters at the time.”

“That's bad,” Harriman said. “ _The Silmarillion_ opens with a creation myth and goes on from there.”

Landry winced.

“So now we have a whole galaxy thinking Earth is full of elves and dwarves and orcs and dragons and hobbits,” McKay ranted. “Hobbits! Just wait until they hear about the One Ring!”

“Do you plan on telling them?” Landry demanded.

He could hear McKay spluttering and ranting in the background. Dr. Weir must have shoved him away from the console. “That's why we were hoping to consult with Dr. Jackson,” Elizabeth said. “This is entirely new ground for the Stargate Program. Unless it's been kept out of reports, of course.”

“Of course,” Landry said warily.

“They have giant riding spiders!” McKay shouted from the background. “They took our perfectly rational fear of spiders with 5 meter legspans as proof of religious piety!”

“To be fair, 16 foot spiders,” Harriman said as though that was explanation enough.

Landry couldn't help the shudder. “I'll speak to General O'Neill,” he said. “Was there anything else?”

“I'm sure it can wait,” Elizabeth said. She sounded bitter for some reason. Then the wormhole closed.

Landry looked at Harriman who was still grinning broadly. He tried to glare that grin into submission, only managed to dampen it.

“I think they were hoping for some sort of suggestion or guidance or precedent,” Harriman said.

“Well I don't have any,” Landry said. “I never even read the books. Watched the movies, though.”

That dropped Harriman's grin right off. Instead he looked personally offended.

“What?” Landry asked.


	3. Of Decisions Made

“Pay up,” McKay ordered.

“No way, you interfered,” Sheppard said.

They were filing into the main conference room for an emergency meeting of the senior staff. Dr. Beckett, Dr. Zelenka, Major Lorne, Teyla, Ronon, and Dr. Weir were all there waiting.

“My interference did not change the facts,” McKay said, pointing to his palm where he expected winnings to be deposited. “The SGC was never going to make a decision about this. No matter how hard we try they're leaving us on our own. They don't want this problem.”

“Gentlemen,” Dr. Weir said.

McKay and Sheppard sat down. McKay still sent glances of demand Sheppard's way even as he set up his laptop and began pulling up notes.

“Dr. McKay is correct,” Elizabeth began. “The Genii have decided the works of Tolkien represent Earth's main religion and the SGC's response was simply to promise to inform General O'Neill. Dr. Jackson was not consulted and no guidelines were offered. We are on our own. Therefore, I ask: what do we do?”

“This idea that your world has many different religions is strange to me,” Teyla said. “We have always known the Ancestors brought us here. We know our history. We believe there were once great plans for us. The Wraith changed all that when they drove the Ancestors away. Do the people of Earth not know their own history?”

“There's a great deal of contention about tha',” Carson admitted.

“And the stargate's kept secret,” Lorne said. “The SGC fears there'd be rioting and a breakdown of society if people found out.”

“That makes no sense,” Ronon said. “Why would breaking isolation cause riots?”

“Many of Earth's cultures and religions developed in isolation,” Elizabeth admitted. “Nearly every time that isolation breaks there's been a war or a genocide or worse. It Earth breaks isolation her people will expect a war because that's what's always happened.”

“It makes now a good time for SGC to go public,” Zelenka admitted. “Ori are an enemy the Tau'ri will expect. Origin is a threat that makes sense.”

“Thankfully it's not up to us,” Elizabeth said. “Unfortunately, this situation is. I told Chief Radim he could negotiate for the 'red book' with the book's owner. That owner died two years ago. We need to decide whether we let them keep the book and accept this galaxy's conclusion concerning our beliefs or if we try and correct the assumptions.”

“If what you say of Earth is true, the Genii will not understand your 'truth',” Teyla said. “I do not understand your world and I have lived among you for some time. If these stories make sense, if these stories are important to you, if these stories have shaped how you view and act in your daily lives, then are the Genii wrong?”

“But that's not what happened,” Sheppard protested.

Rodney scoffed aloud. “Please, three billion people on Earth believe 'and God said let there be light'. Did that really happen?”

Elizabeth nodded. “It might not matter what really happened,” she realized. “Religion and history don't have to match.”

“Ours did,” Ronon said.

“Yeah well none of ours do,” Rodney said. “Not one bit.”

“That gives us leeway,” Elizabeth said. “It's our decision where we go from here. Do we tell the Genii the truth about the 'red book'? Do we go along with the charade? What do we do the with copy the Genii have now?”

“The truth,” Sheppard said without hesitation.

“Now now, let's not jump to anything too damaging,” Lorne said. “Militarily speaking, we did just embarrass the Genii. We left Kolya for their capture and they failed. Chief Radim is saner than Cowen was, do we really want to throw that away?”

“What do ye mean?” Carson asked.

“If we embarrass the Genii further I expect Radim's out of government,” Lorne said. “We already showed him to be a weak leader. If we embarrass him further not only will he lose power but his replacement will have reason to prove his strength by picking a fight with us.”

“The first time was bad enough,” Rodney said, absently rubbing his arm. The scars were faint but he could still feel them.

“So we tell him the owner of the book is dead,” Lorne said, spinning his idea. “Let him keep it. Call it a gift. We don't tell them the truth about its fiction. Let the Genii have the cultural victory.”

“And leave them indebted to us,” Elizabeth said. “Ladon expected me to demand the book back. He was afraid I'd declare war after Sheppard's little display of 'dishonor'.”

“Hey,” Sheppard protested.

“You allied yourself with a Wraith, accepted its gifts, and let it live,” Ronon said, glaring at him.

“I'm not dead so I'd say I did pretty good,” Sheppard said.

“And I'd say it's settled,” Elizabeth said. “Gentlemen, and Teyla, I have a call to make.” She got up and left the conference room.

Rodney glared at Sheppard and pointed to his palm again.

“God damn it, Rodney,” Sheppard swore as he fished in his pockets for his losses.

“You mean 'Ulmo drown it',” Rodney said, grinning. He had to catch the chocolate bar thrown in his face. Wait a minute... "Sheppard, you bet Godiva. This is Hershey's!"

"You interfered," Sheppard snapped as he left the conference room.

Rodney closed his laptop and stormed after him. "Get back here you cheat!"

Ronon watched them leave. First Sheppard allies himself with a Wraith, now he cheats on bets. What else, he wondered.


	4. Of Sweet Compromise

It was a neutral planet, marked in the database as 'dangerous' due to the stinging insects that swarmed in the trees. Atlantis had already been there, already captured several of the bright purple insects for study. Their venom held promise as a nerve block.

The meeting place was in the middle of a meadow littered with night-blooming flowers, the trees looming all around no more than a hundred feet distant in any direction. A single dirt path cut through the forest to the stargate in a clearing nearby.

Major Lorne figured this place would be intimidating to anyone who knew about the insects but didn't know how to handle themselves. It certainly seemed to intimidate the Genii even as they tried to hide their discomfort.

Chief Radim had his two companions, his sister Dahlia and a man he introduced as Archivist Rainar. Dr. Weir had hers, Lorne and Dr. Lindsay. Both parties knew there would be squads of soldiers hiding in the tree line or waiting in cloaked jumpers. Mutual assurance against a double cross, Dr. Weir viewed it. Standard operating procedure, Lorne thought. He figured the Genii would see things much as he did.

“There's been a change of plans,” Dr. Weir said.

Radim grew tense. “Oh? We won't be negotiating with the owner of the Red Book?”

“The owner is dead,” Elizabeth said. “She died nearly two years ago.”

Radim didn't exactly relax.

“That would be why you never noticed the book's disappearance,” Rainar realized.

“Dr. Johnson reported it missing,” Elizabeth admitted. “But she died not soon after. There was an issue with a nanite swarm. I'm sure you can imagine how dangerous a city like Atlantis must be given the Ancients simply abandoned all their work when they left.”

Ladon and Dahlia both winced.

“We're still finding abandoned labs in the city,” Elizabeth continued, eerily nonchalant. “Normally Rodney's in charge of it but he's been recalled to Earth for the time being.”

“I had wondered where he was,” Dahlia said with what Lorne could have sworn was a leer. He didn't want to think about that.

“So what do we do about this?” Radim asked. “The book's owner is dead, what happens now?”

“Normally on Earth, a person keeps a document that dictates their final wishes as it pertains to their possessions,” Lindsay said. “Dr. Johnson did not. In such a case, possessions go to the family.”

“Dr. Johnson has no living family,” Elizabeth said. It was a lie but she had no reason to expect the doctor's estranged brother would care to fight over a book.

“And in such a case?” Rainar asked.

“Your possession of the Red Book is legal under Earth law,” Lindsay said. "We see no reason to contest that."

“I believe it falls under the statute of 'finders keepers',” Lorne said.

Elizabeth glared at him. He looked apologetic until she looked away then grinned at Dr. Lindsay. The two exchanged a fist bump.

Radim looked visibly hopeful. Archivist Rainar looked like he wanted to hug someone. Dahlia gave him a look informing him it would not be her.

Then there was a scream from the edge of the trees.

Lorne watched as a man in a Genii uniform was chased by a swarm of the bright nearly-neon purple insects. He looked back at Radim who seemed to simply accept the development. “You're not going to do anything?” Lorne asked.

“There's nothing we can do,” Radim said. “No one swarmed on this world survives.”

And yet you wanted to meet here, Lorne thought. He knew better than to accept death, however, especially death as easily avoidable as this. He tapped his radio. “Jumper 1, bees,” he said. “I repeat, bees.”

There was the sound of a cloaked jumper landing and then several shouts of “BEES!” as a pair of marines jumped out in what looked like hats re-purposed from isolation suits, if those suits had been made out of straw hats and mesh. They grabbed the man being swarmed and dragged him into the grass. The swarm buzzed overhead then left.

“All clear, I think he'll be fine.”

Lorne heard the voice in stereo, both from his radio and from fifty feet away. “Good to hear,” he said. “Watch out for more swarms.”

Radim looked both unnerved and impressed. “Your men risked their lives...”

“We have swarms like this on Earth,” Elizabeth said. “We call them 'bees'. They pollinate our crops, produce honey and wax...”

“Eat our homes,” Lorne added. “Carpenter bees, big fat ones.” He held up a hand, two fingers spaced almost two inches apart.

The discussion quickly wrapped up as Radim pretended not to look disappointed. Lorne gave Dahlia a quick rundown of supportive care for the one soldier with his several dozen insect stings and they were off, safe in a jumper with a squad of marines wearing makeshift beekeeper hats.

“I guess you didn't need us after all, ma'am” Lorne said.

Elizabeth snorted. “We were lucky,” she said. “Never has a bee swarm been so useful.”

“They're not really bees,” Dr. Lindsay said.

“Don't care,” Elizabeth said. “They kept me from blowing the whole charade. Imagine if the Genii wanted to discuss religion. I still haven't finished the book, I haven't had time.”

“I think they planned those bees,” Lorne said. “Maybe not **those** bees but they planned **on** bees. Chief Radim was disappointed we weren't afraid. I think he tried to sacrifice that soldier on purpose. Was it his idea to meet here?”

“It was,” Elizabeth said. “I didn't object; they're just bees. They're only dangerous if you don't know what you're doing.”

“Or if you purposefully antagonize them,” Lorne mused.

“You think he ordered that man's death as some sort of show of, what, cruelty?” Elizabeth wondered. “Strength?”

“A cavalier attitude toward death?” Lindsay offered. “Perhaps a test of our mercy.”

“I hope we passed,” Elizabeth said.

Lorne nodded, falling into thought. It was too convenient, too easy to dismiss the attack as a coincidence. No, there was something else going on here, something he didn't like.


	5. Of Siblings and Suggestions

“I don't approve,” Daniel said.

Sam Carter checked the contents of a box against the packing list attached. Yes, it was all here. “Approve of what?” she asked.

Dr. Jackson pouted at her, one eyebrow raising to emphasize his displeasure.

“Oh come on, Daniel, it's not that bad,” Sam said.

“Spreading a false religion for our own amusement?” Daniel accused.

“First, nobody's forcing anyone to worship anything,” Sam said. “Second, none of us on the SGC end are taking this seriously, we know better. Third, no one's going to siphon power off of elf worship. And fourth, and this is the most important, from what Dr. Weir said we can conclude they're not the ones spreading the rumor. The Genii are.”

“So we're sending them...” Daniel glared at the box.

“Jack's suggestion,” Sam said. “It's not an order one way or the other.”

“Throwing Dr. Weir under the scrutiny of the IOA,” Daniel said.

“It's not like that,” Sam said. She closed the box and hoisted it in her arms. Ugh, it was heavy. She carried it to the lab where Dr. McKay and his sister were doing the preliminary work on the 'matter bridge' idea.

“I still don't approve,” Daniel said.

“Hush,” Sam said.

Jeannie noticed them first. She glared at Rodney, who didn't respond, before hitting him in the arm.

“Ow, what was that for?” Rodney whined. Then he looked up to see Daniel and Sam. “Oh,” he realized.

“What's that?” Jeannie asked, pointing to the box.

Sam dropped the box on a table with a loud thud. “General O'Neill has reviewed Atlantis's problem concerning Genii intelligence,” she announced. “He sends this.”

“Oh, it couldn't be anything useful like a suggestion, could it,” Rodney grumbled before he opened the box. He looked at the contents, not entirely sure what he was seeing. Then it all clicked.

Sam unfolded the packing list and read aloud the contents. “Two complete twelve-volume sets of _The History of Middle Earth_ , two copies of _The Unfinished Tales_ , two sets of _The Lord of the Rings_ in both hardcover and softcover, six copies of _The Hobbit_ including two annotated versions, two copies of the film trilogies including theatrical and extended, four copies of _The Silmarillion_ , and half a dozen copies of _An Introduction to Elvish_ , the UK edition. It comes with a note instructing you to use them wisely.”

“Why?” Jeannie asked.

Sam grinned. “Didn't your brother tell you?” She didn't wait for a reply. “There's a race out there called the Genii. Let's call them a fair-weather ally. Two years ago they acquired a 'holy book' from Atlantis and translated it.”

“It's not a holy book,” Daniel said, scowling.

“Shut up,” Sam said. “They've spread knowledge of Earth's main religion all over the Pegasus galaxy.”

“Oh God,” Jeannie groaned. “They picked up a Bible?”

“Nope, _The Silmarillion_ ,” Rodney said. “The entire Pegasus galaxy believes we worship the Valar and Earth is full of hobbits.”

Jeannie looked like she was waiting for the funny part of this joke. That look grew to anger as she realized it wasn't funny and wasn't a joke.

“So I take it General O'Neill isn't going to interfere with our decision to let the Genii believe what they will about us?” Rodney asked.

“Not at all,” Sam said. “In fact, he suggests Dr. Weir make the _Lord of the Rings_ movies mandatory viewing for all personnel transferring in. I guarantee you, there's time on the _Daedalus_ trip.”

“Ugh, I know,” Rodney said. “Maybe with this they'll forget the whole 'midway ceremony'.”

“Not likely,” Sam said.

Jeannie glared at Rodney like she knew exactly who to blame. “And why do these Genii think Earth believes in the One Ring? Who gave them that book?”

Rodney grinned.

“Meredith...”

“It wasn't me,” Rodney snapped defensively. “Why do you think it was me?”

“Because I know you,” Jeannie said.

Rodney huffed. “I'll have you know it was a mathematician named Dr. Debra Johnson. She so carelessly left her copy out on her nightstand in her own bedroom the day we were invaded and I was tortured. A week later she died in my arms.”

Jeannie rolled her eyes. “Yeah, yeah, whatever,” she said. She didn't notice the surprised then annoyed looks both Sam and Daniel gave her.

Rodney sighed and shook his head before getting back to work, his movements somehow subdued.

Daniel led Sam out of the lab, leaving the box behind. He closed the door. “I don't like her,” he said.

“As far as she's concerned her brother disappeared into government research and didn't speak to her for four years,” Sam said. “I expect she'll be short with him for a while.”

“Doesn't matter,” Daniel said. “She doesn't trust him, she doesn't like him, I don't even know why she needs to be here. I don't like her.”

“To be fair, not many people like McKay.”

“You're defending her because you brought her in,” Daniel said. It wasn't an accusation, it was simple fact. “Meanwhile she's in there belittling her own brother's torture. This will not end well, Sam. Not at all.”

“I'll have Caldwell keep an eye on them on the _Daedalus_ ,” Sam said. “Once they're in Pegasus Rodney's team will look out for him. It won't get bad.”

“I hope not,” Daniel said. “I really hope not.”

*****

Jeannie tried poking her brother, first verbally then physically. He didn't answer her, purposefully buried in his work. She could tell he was doing it on purpose, he winced every time she touched him. "What is it now, Meredith?"

He finally turned to look at her. His face was blank but his eyes... She knew those eyes. "Oh God, you're so sensitive," Jeannie sneered mockingly. "What did I do this time?"

Rodney turned away back to his screen. He didn't start work again, merely looked unseeing at it. "There was a nanite swarm," he said. "Tiny robots each the size of a virus. Enter through the lungs, make their way to the brain, get to work on the cranial arteries. The bleed caused terrifying hallucinations before they died. We lost so many people that day. She died in my arms, screaming, seizing, then... nothing."

Jeannie's annoyance began to give way to dawning horror. What if he hadn't been exaggerating? What if that's what happened?

"The Genii invaded," Rodney continued. "They waited until they knew we'd evacuated. A hurricane the size of Asia. I stayed behind, tried to keep the city afloat. Then they came. Spoofed our gate technician. Dr. Weir didn't know, she's a diplomat, how could she not when they claimed to be refugees on the run from the Wraith? We locked everything down, I had the codes. While they searched the city, looted everything they could carry, Kolya took a knife to me."

Jeannie watched as her brother, the pudgy little wimp with a thousand exaggerated sob stories, pulled up his sleeve to show her pale white scars all along his left arm. Horror spread to comprehension and she felt ill.

Long white scars striped his arm from elbow to wrist. Some were clean, faded, sharp. Others were ragged, wide, damning. He drew a finger up each one, retracing the path of the knife. Then he connected some of the more ragged lines and slid his finger down his arm in a filleting motion.

"Stop it!" Jeannie snapped.

Rodney looked at her with empty eyes.

"Fine, I get it," Jeannie said, talking fast to try and tamp down her nausea. "You weren't exaggerating. But you've done it before."

Rodney's eyes seemed to close off more as he drew his sleeve down and turned away. She almost didn't catch his whisper.

"No, I never did."

She rolled her eyes, took a deep breath, and willed herself to feel better. Of course he did. He always did. He had to be.

Had to.


	6. Of the Stories of Family

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heed the rating change and the 'child abuse' tag.

Maybe it would work out better this time.

Maybe she wouldn't be horrible like Mother was.

Maybe she could be an adult.

Or... maybe Mother would apologize from beyond the grave. Maybe serisus would fly. Maybe the Wraith would go vegan. That seemed more likely than Jeannie deciding to change.

That was what it all came down to, decisions. Mother decided the truth and any contradiction was a lie, an exaggeration, his own fault. Now Jeannie was deciding those same truths.

This was why he said she would waste her life as a mom. Because she'd make the same decisions. She'd decide on a truth and her kid would be the one to suffer for it.

The same as he had.

*****

“I can't believe we're going to an alien party,” Jeannie said.

“We're the aliens,” Rodney said with a long-suffering sigh. “It's their planet, we're the aliens.”

They were in the mess hall. The crisis with the matter bridge was averted, the city was back on generator power, the Genii were holding another ball the next day to officially accept the Red Book as a gift from Dr. Weir, and Jeannie had wheedled herself onto the guest list against Rodney's protests.

“Sure, sure,” she said. “Still, aliens.” She suddenly glared at him. “Aliens you're poisoning with your insistence that they believe Tolkien's works are some sort of religion. You don't honestly believe they're stupid enough to fall for it.”

And this was why he'd protested. Rodney slammed his plastic spork onto the table. “Jeannie, stop it,” he snapped.

“Stop what? Aliens are not going to believe any random book they pick up, I don't care what _Star Trek_ says, nobody's that stupid.”

“This is why I didn't want you to go,” Rodney said. “I still don't want you to go. The Radim Administration is very fragile right now and our gift of a holy book is a major political triumph for them. The Genii are a nuclear power and we want to do everything we can to make sure those nukes stay in sane hands. If that means we act like Tolkienites to prop up their government then that's what we do. Understood?”

“Oh my god,” Jeannie realized. “You actually think they believe Tolkien? What kind of idiot are you?”

Rodney slammed a fist on the table and stood up. The conversations around them died.

“See, this is why we didn't speak for years,” he said, deceptively calm. “This is why I know you'll make a terrible mother. You don't care what's really going on. You don't see the evidence in front of your face, you don't want to. You've **decided** what's true and no mere reality will change that. You're just like Mother was and you've decided that's okay. You've decided and you will ruin Madison with your decisions.” He turned and left, abandoning his tray on the table in front of her.

“What?!” she demanded. “How dare you? Yeah, run you little coward! Run the fuck away like you always have!”

He didn't even acknowledge her. He simply left.

Conversations started back up, sound slowly rising to its previous level. But the subjects had all changed.

Jeannie sat alone pushing crackers into her nearly-vegan tava bean soup. She was contemplating stealing the bacon off of Rodney's abandoned tray, just one little taste, when suddenly she was no longer alone. She looked up and smiled at Rodney's friends, his 'team' as he'd called them, but they weren't smiling at her. Not anymore.

“What is it?” she asked. They looked all so serious. Was something wrong?

“It appears we have an issue,” Sheppard said, sitting down. Ronon and Teyla sat down as well. None of them had trays though Ronon did steal that rasher of bacon Jeannie had her eye on.

“Oh, god, what did Meredith say now?” Jeannie demanded, rolling her eyes.

“See, that's the issue we have,” Sheppard said. “You think he's someone he's not.”

“Your efforts to make us despise him as much as you do are distasteful and offensive,” Teyla said.

“I don't despise him,” Jeannie said.

“You act like you do,” Ronon said. “You call him a coward.”

“Well he is.”

Ronon fixed her with a glare. “He took a lethal dose of Wraith enzyme to escape his captors once. Sheppard and Teyla were already forced into a suicide mission against their will. McKay made it back here, sent us to their rescue, then he died. His heart stopped. The doc couldn't get it started with the machines. He opened McKay's chest and stuffed his hand in and squeezed over and over and over to keep McKay's heart going. For half an hour. He was dead for half an hour before the machines brought him back.”

Jeannie looked from Ronon to Sheppard, hoping this was a lie. Sheppard looked as serious as Ronon. Worse, Ronon was miming Carson's actions, squeezing an imaginary heart in his hand again and again.

“We do not know the Meredith you speak of,” Teyla said. “We know the Rodney who worked three days without rest to complete construction of a nuclear weapon to break a Wraith siege of this city. He did not once complain of the radiation sickness he developed. He was ill for a week but refused treatment until the city was safe.”

“After Kolya tortured him, McKay just wrapped his arm and went back to work,” Sheppard said. “We wouldn't have known except they'd made Dr. Weir watch. She didn't ask Dr. Beckett about McKay's arm until after everyone was safe, 3 days after the torture. He'd never gotten it treated or looked at. By then it was infected, several strips of skin had torn off, he could have lost the use of his hand. He needed skin grafts. He said he didn't want to say anything because he was afraid we'd laugh at him and that it wouldn't be the first time.”

“Who else has laughed at his pain, I wonder?” Teyla asked.

Jeannie's stomach roiled. She swallowed heavily, willing her lunch to stay where it was.

“He's more attractive when he doesn't hide his scars,” Ronon said, grinning.

Sheppard gave him a quizzical look.

“What?” Ronon asked.

“The point is,” Sheppard said, bringing the conversation back on track. “I don't know what your life was like growing up and frankly I don't care. But you don't know Rodney. You have no idea who he is or what it's like out here. Don't act like you do. And don't act like you know better.”

“But--” Jeannie said.

“No,” Teyla said, cutting her off. “You are his sister because he chooses it, not because of any blood between you. That is the way of this galaxy. If you wish him to remain family you will stop judging him. You no longer have that right.”

“Oh, and he has the right to judge me?” Jeannie demanded.

“He has a grasp of reality,” Teyla said.

“If you refuse who he is then he has every right to judge you a stranger,” Ronon said. “If he feels you're a poor mother it is his duty to offer to take the kid. You would not have the right to refuse your child's decision.”

“That seems kinda harsh,” Sheppard said.

“Family is defined by the individuals within it,” Teyla said. “If the child wished to be raised by Rodney, then in this galaxy, the mother would have no right to refuse.”

Jeannie felt ill again, though for an entirely different reason. It finally struck her just how alien this place and its people were. Even the people from Earth, like her brother. He wasn't her brother, he was someone, some **thing** else, something alien. She couldn't hear this anymore. “Excuse me,” she said, picking up her tray and leaving. She left the tray at the dish return on her way out.

*****

Jeannie waved her hand over the little crystals on the wall until the door opened. It opened on its own. Weird. She stuck her head in the room. “Hello?” These were her brother's quarters, right? She did have the right room? She could hear the clicking of computer keys stop.

“There you are,” she said as she stepped into the room.

His room was a mess. He had at least three laptops and two tablets clustered around a panel on a desk. That panel felt weird, staticky, and the one open laptop showed it was charging even though there were no wires attached. The floor was littered with sheets of paper, with used shirts, with a blanket thrown off his bed and left where it lay. He was sitting at a second desk, an open laptop in front of him. But he wasn't typing anymore. He looked at her.

“I talked to your friends,” Jeannie offered.

Rodney's carefully neutral look fell to one of angry betrayal. “Great,” he said. “Just great. What other grand hilarious fictions of my childhood have you been telling them now?”

“They weren't fictions, if you recall you really were bullied,” Jeannie snapped. “Badly. And for your information, I didn't tell them anything today. They told me stories.”

Rodney folded his hands in front of him, elbows resting on his knees. “Oh, so you didn't tell them about the time the janitor found me hogtied with my own pants, a sock stuffed in my mouth so I couldn't scream? Or did Mother never tell you that story?”

Jeannie started and stared. “What?!”

“You have no idea what really happened, do you?” Rodney accused. “You just know the stories Mother told you. Well guess what. I went through Hell as a kid and she turned it all into a joke. Any time I went to her with something too serious to laugh at she accused me of making it all up. I must be exaggerating. And she must have told you how I used to exaggerate all the time.”

Jeannie stood in shock.

“Do you really think a bunch of 18 year old football players were going to let little 12 year old me go into a bathroom stall alone, take off my underwear on my own, put my pants back on, and let me hand them my underwear? Then, what, were they going to ruffle my hair and put my shorts on my head and escort me to the lunch room for a good old-fashioned ribbing? Is that really what you thought?”

Jeannie shook her head. But that had been exactly what she thought. She shook her head because she desperately didn't want him to continue.

“I never made it to the lunch room that day,” Rodney said, staring her down. “I punched one of them in the face, you see, while they were holding me down and stripping me as I kicked and screamed. So that underwear **was** my lunch. I'm lucky that's all they did that time but I was still vomiting cotton for three days. And you know what Mother did when I told her? She **laughed** at me. In my face. That is the story you told my friends the moment my back was turned.”

Jeannie felt her knees betray her. She locked them so she wouldn't fall to the floor.

“What else have you been telling them, eh?” Rodney demanded. “What other humilities of mine did you decide my friends needed to know?”

“I, I didn't...”

Rodney sat up and glared at her. “I wish I could believe that,” he said.

Jeannie blinked back tears. She wondered what truths lurked behind the dozens of stories their mother had told her growing up, that Dad hadn't wanted her to know. Which ones were real? Or was he exaggerating even now? She wished she knew. And she wished she'd never known. “Do you want me here?” she asked in a small voice.

“What?”

Jeannie took a deep breath. It didn't help her volume much. “Do you... want me here?” she asked.

“Why?” Rodney asked. “You have a husband on Earth. A kid to ruin. You don't belong here.”

She bit back a snide comment. “I mean... I'm not scheduled to leave for three days. I can... stay on the ship? Until then?”

“Why?” Rodney asked again.

Jeannie felt something in her break loose and she threw herself into his arms. Although since he wasn't prepared it was more of a tackle. “I'm sorry, I'm so sorry,” she sobbed. “I didn't know, I'm sorry...”

Rodney awkwardly patted her back as she curled up in his lap like they were children again. Then...

“Wait, what did they say about me?” he asked.

Jeannie pulled away from him, eyes red and shining with tears, and began poking him in the chest. “You almost died!” she shouted. “Lots!”

“Hey, hey, ow stop it!” He tried to catch her hands so she'd stop poking him but she kept twisting away and poking him again.

“You got radiation poisoning!”

“I wasn't the only one,” Rodney defended. “Radek was as sick as I was! One of us had to stay on our feet until the siege ended!”

“You overdosed on Wraith enzyme!”

“I had to do something, Ford was going to get Sheppard and Teyla killed!”

“You could have died and I never would have known!”

Rodney didn't have anything for that. Finally he caught both her hands and gripped them tight. She still half-sat, half-knelt on his lap, tears still streaking her face. He looked at her and took a deep breath, gathering the courage to say what he felt. “I didn't think you'd have cared,” he admitted. “No one else would have.”

“That's not true,” Jeannie whispered.

“Who then?” he asked. “My neighbors? My cat? Certainly not my coworkers, they exiled me to Siberia! No one on Earth would have missed me. That's why I volunteered.”

“Volunteered?”

“We all volunteered,” he said. “Every single one of us. For a one-way trip. We knew we weren't coming back.”

Jeannie sagged, sliding off of her perch. She ended up sitting on the floor staring at her hands. Rodney got up and stepped around her. She stayed where she'd slumped.

“We all volunteered,” Rodney said again. “We wanted this, every single one of us. Most of us... never wanted to return. I didn't.”

Even though it was his own room he left her there and headed to the lab. As the door closed he thought he heard a scream of anguish.


	7. Of Balls and Balconies

Dreary.

If asked to describe the Genii “ball” in one word, that was the word Jeannie would use.

There were no windows, no natural light at all. Instead there were heavy tapestries along the walls to block out anything from outside getting in, or was it to keep anything from inside getting out? The tapestries had some decoration but it was dull and difficult to see in the incandescent orange light from alien light bulbs.

The food was decent and in fact she could see Rodney ducking behind the food table whenever the men dressed in the high collars came near. She wasn't sure why, the Genii had fitted him in a similar outfit with the same high collar.

And that was the weirdest part. She knew she hadn't brought anything nice enough for a ball but Elizabeth assured her it would be no problem. And indeed it was no problem at all. Once they were there, several hours before the start, they'd each been whisked off to individual rooms and fitted into costumes.

Most of the men from Atlantis wore the same thing most of the Genii men wore, some sort of formal military uniform in black fabric with brass accents and a brightly colored silk thing around the neck like a big fluffy cravat. Rodney was different with his tights that went way too far up and hid way too little and the high collar that looked like should have accompanied a cape. He was the only one from Atlantis so adorned though there were close to a dozen Genii all with tights and high collars, all who seemed to be commanding respect and beaming with pride and not wearing enough pants.

Teyla and Elizabeth looked regal in their purple velvet gowns, fine brass chains draped around their corseted waists. Elizabeth took to it naturally but Teyla seemed less than enthused. In fact she seemed downright stand-offish when women dressed like Jeannie tried to comfort her.

Jeannie's dress was unique among the Atlantis delegation but almost every Genii woman here wore one just like it. She had no corset, no pretty brass chains, in fact she felt downright frumpy in something she could best describe as a silk nightgown. It did nothing to show off her figure, not like Teyla or Elizabeth, and it kind of made her feel fat. At least she got to wear the one piece of pretty jewelry she'd brought from Earth, though the green rhinestone butterfly clip seemed gawdy and cheap next to the small delicate metal chains everyone else wore with their tiny gems that sparkled when the light touched them.

Even Dahlia Radim got to wear a corset, a cute purple velvet thing with tiny silver chains that matched the red velvet of the high collar she wore. She got to show off her legs, too, though the tights seemed to cause something of a scandal among the other ladies. Jeannie could hear the whispering when she got close, whispering that went quiet when someone corseted went by but didn't seem to react to her at all.

“Such a shame that the Lanteans can't have children,” Jeannie overheard. The speaker was a matronly woman, someone Jeannie immediately thought must be a grandmother given the gray hair and the rounded form. She wouldn't look out of place in a kitchen with a pan of chocolate chip cookies, that was for sure. A gaggle of women around her all nodded or sipped politely from glasses of wine.

“There's rumor that Dahlia has given up her womanhood all together. I suppose it's for the best, no woman has ever been Chief Scientist. Now no woman will be.”

“She's still bound, though.”

“Pshaw. Rumor has it she's bound so the Lantean women won't feel left out. Poor things, I hear they don't have enough food to unbind themselves.”

“Their weapons specialist seems healthy enough.”

“He would be, I hear he's their Wanderer. Always protect the Wanderers. They're the ones who rebuild after a cull.”

“And build up to resist the cull. That's why Cowen failed, he sacrificed too many Wanderers to the Project. They all withered and died. Worse than a feeding, if you ask me.”

“And now Commander Kolya--”

“Shhh, Anya, don't mention his name. I've heard the Lanteans are hunting him like the Wraith hunt their runners, tracking him through the gates like a wild animal.”

“I never liked him anyway.”

“Good to hear. Can't have sympathizers around the Lanteans. I've heard things...”

“Things? Sophia, do tell.”

“The Lanteans are willing to commit... blasphemies... to hunt him.”

“Ooo, what sort of blasphemies? Are they delicious?”

“I never heard. Just... blasphemies.”

Jeannie moved away from the conversation. Old biddies gossiping at parties were apparently a constant in all the universe, yet even so these Genii had weird ideas. Instead she headed over to one person who should be open to talking to her, even if he was still hiding behind the food table.

“Hey Mer,” she greeted.

He looked like he was about to correct her but simply sighed and accepted it. “What?” he asked. “You wanted to be here, go mingle.”

“Yeah but I thought this would be... fun...”

Rodney snorted. “No the fun comes later,” he said with a grin. “Teyla's gonna beat every marine she can get her hands on and I get to watch. Oh, but you'll be on your way back to Earth by then.”

“Why?” Jeannie asked. “She looks pretty. Much prettier than I do in this.” She gestured down at the formless drape of fabric. It even had a neck thing that buttoned tightly, a tight collar with lace on the top that itched. At least Teyla and Elizabeth had a proper plunging neckline.

Rodney shrugged. “Whatever it is she feels insulted,” he said.

Jeannie scowled. She looked out over the ball. From Rodney's vantage point at the food table she could see every major grouping and could track everyone in tights and a high collar. She sighed, shifting from foot to foot. “This is boring,” she said.

“Nobody asked you to come.”

Jeannie scrunched her nose at him. “There isn't even any music,” she complained. “If we had that then at least there could be dancing.”

“Yeah, well, the Genii are a strict 'no music' society and I have no idea why,” Rodney said.

“More like a 'no fun' society,” Jeannie grumbled. She was beginning to see why a culture like this might believe _The Silmarillion_ was a religious text. It was full of music and singing and dancing all sorts of fun things these people had probably never done before, it must have seemed utterly fantastical.

“Crap,” Rodney said. “Hide me.”

Jeannie watched as one of the men in tights and high collar came up to the food table. Jeannie decided to step in. The man looked delighted at this turn of events. “My dear, welcome to Genia Tertius,” he said.

“Thank you,” Jeannie said as he took her hand and bowed, bringing her hand to his lips. She giggled. “And you are?”

“Archivist Linas Rainar of the Special Archives,” he said. “I do apologize for the misunderstanding earlier in your preparations, we were not informed you were unbound.”

“That's all right,” Jeannie said. She glanced at Rodney, looking for some sort of clarification. She got none. “I'm Jeannie Miller, Meredith's brother.”

“I told you not to call me that,” Rodney snapped.

“It's your **name** ,” Jeannie insisted. “Mom gave you that name.”

“Yes well Mother proved she hated me, so you can take that name and shove it.” Rodney stormed off, only realizing his mistake when he was accosted by another Archivist in tights.

“Sorry about that,” Jeannie said.

“I take it he chose to leave your family?” Rainar asked.

“How did you know?” Jeannie asked. She was unnerved at how casual his question was, as though it happened all the time. Shouldn't families stay together? “He left four years ago, never looked back.”

“And he took a new name,” Rainar mused, nodding. “Then what brings you here, I wonder?”

“I was brought in for a project,” Jeannie said, trying to be nonchalant and vague.

“Ah, we all have our projects,” Rainar said. He poured himself a glass of wine then offered the bottle to Jeannie. “Would you, my dear?” he asked.

“Please,” Jeannie said. Yes, Elizabeth had told her to stay away from the wine but she really needed a drink to get through this.

Archivist Rainar poured her a generous glass and handed it to her. “What manner of project?” he asked.

Jeannie took a sip of wine. It was sweeter than she'd expected and left a dark taste in her mouth. “I'm not supposed to talk about it,” she admitted. “It didn't work out anyway.”

“A dangerous thing,” Rainar said. “Too many failures and the people won't understand. But then, I suppose there are few enough Lanteans that your Dr. Weir can keep her rule despite.”

“But necessary,” Jeannie defended. “We learn a lot from failures. Designs can be improved if we know what went wrong.”

Rainar chuckled. “Of course,” he said but she had the feeling he was humoring her. She covered her rankle by drinking.

“I won't be required at the podium for some time yet,” Rainar said. “Perhaps we could talk until then?”

Jeannie considered it. She knew not to head onto balconies with strange men, so to speak, but this was hardly a party and there weren't any balconies. If she kept him in the main room she should be fine. Besides, he only wanted to talk. She nodded and took his offered arm.

*****

“You were late,” Radim said sternly. “I had to give your speech for you.”

Archivist Rainar bowed deeply. “I apologize, Chief Radim, sir, but I was waylaid for good reason. Dr. McKay had a sister once. She attended the ball. I was deep in conversation with her and forgot the time.”

“I'm assuming you do mean conversation,” Radim said dryly. “The Lantean women are bound, anything more than talk is a waste of time.”

“The Lady McKay is unbound, but yes, I meant words and nothing more.”

“Ah yes,” Radim said, remembering Jeannie. “The one with the gigantic crystal insect. I'd thought only a Wraith queen would be foolish enough to dare flaunt an ornament that large. I was wrong.”

“The Lanteans value their hair,” Rainar said. “They likely adorn it in order to prove they're unbound.”

Radim nodded. It made sense, he'd never seen any of the Lantean women with adorned hair before. “What did you learn, then?” he asked.

Linas Rainar gave an account of the conversation he had with Jeannie. She was here in the Pegasus galaxy working on a project with her brother but she wouldn't give details other than 'it didn't work right'. Rodney had left the family four years prior after their parents died. Earth apparently had no respect for the rights of the child to choose their own family; he was forced to endure hatred from his parents because they would not allow him to leave. His original name was 'Meredith', named for a grandfather who was a musician capable of creating great things. It was a name Rodney despised for various reasons, including his own failure with music.

“Wait,” Radim said, stopping the story there. “'Failure with music'? He derived the Wanderer's instrument without foreknowledge! How is he a failure?”

“I was confused also. But then the Lady McKay explained how he cannot create with his music. What he does create is simple and inferior, without soul. He can play the music of others with great expertise but...”

“He can only mock or destroy,” Radim concluded. It made sense. No wonder Dr. McKay was the Lantean's weapons specialist. He wielded the Valar's greatest power as Morgoth had after Melkor's fall to darkness. It must be a great shame for him. “No wonder he abandoned the musician's name.”

“Among other reasons,” Rainor agreed.

Radim sat down at his desk, the Red Book still there. He sighed as he stroked his hand over the false leather. “One less thing to worry about,” he said. “One less war on our hands. Knowing now what weapons Dr. McKay could bring to bear, I am relieved.”

**Author's Note:**

> I have a [tumblr](http://nebulousmistress.tumblr.com/) where you can find a hundred little fanfics I never posted here. Check it out, drop a line, maybe dare me to write something for you.


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